


Surprise!

by JET_Playin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday Party, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Post Hogwarts AU, Surprise Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JET_Playin/pseuds/JET_Playin
Summary: Draco doesn't want a birthday party, but Harry never listens.





	Surprise!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carpemermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpemermaid/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Carpemermaid!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I hope you are having the best birthday ever!
> 
> Huge thanks to unicornsandphoenix for the speedy beta! You're an angel ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Disclaimer: as always, I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters :)

The rap at the door sounded just as Draco added the last bit of mugwort to his potion. He ignored it, focusing instead on stirring the mixture fourteen times, anti-clockwise. When he finally looked up, Harry was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms and ankles crossed, a wide grin sitting lopsided on his face.

“How’s it going?” he asked, pushing away from the door and crossing the room in long, lazy strides.

“Well enough,” Draco answered, his gaze flicking to the clock above his desk. “That time already?”

“Yep, time to get moving.” Harry smiled, bending down to kiss his cheek. “Whatever would you do without me?”

Sighing, Draco checked the flame under the potion, jotted a note on the scroll at his elbow, and rose. “Work late into the night, in all likelihood,” he admitted. 

“Right. I couldn’t let you work the night away on your birthday, now could I?” Instead of stepping aside, Harry moved into Draco’s space, catching his hips and pulling him close for a moment. “What kind of boyfriend would that make me?”

“The kind who, for once, remembered that I don’t care to be reminded of how rapidly I’m approaching thirty?”

“You’re twenty-four, Draco.”

Draco affected an exaggerated wince, slapping a hand over Harry’s mouth. “Shhh! That number is far too close to a quarter of a century.”

His eyes twinkling, Harry darted his tongue out, dragging it along Draco’s fingers.

“Ugh, you're disgusting!” Draco cried, jerking his hand away and wiping it on the man’s shoulder.

“Come on,” Harry grinned, dropping a kiss to Draco’s frowning mouth before taking his hand and pulling him toward the door. “We have big plans on this momentous occasion.”

“Oh, no, Potter,” Draco moaned, digging in his heels to stall their exit. “I don’t want to go out, tonight.”

“Perfect!”

“I-it is?”

“Yes, I’ve already started dinner, which is why we need to hurry back.” Harry tugged, unbalancing Draco and sending him tumbling toward him. “So let’s get a move on, yeah?”

He sounded innocent enough, but something in the layered green of his eyes, in the way he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and rocked on his heels, told Draco he was hiding something. He didn’t do it often, which would account for why he was so miserable at it; there was no way he had the time to go home, start dinner, and meet him back at the ministry before either of them were scheduled to leave work. Smiling to himself, Draco started toward the door.

“Okay, let’s get this over with, shall we?” He held the door open until Harry crossed the threshold, then waved his wand, locking his lab for the evening.

“What d’you mean?” Harry asked, falling into step beside him as he headed toward the atrium.

“This surprise party you’ve planned,” he said, matter-of-factly, chuckling when Harry gasped. “You couldn’t keep a secret if your life depended on it, Potter. It’s good your face is too easily recognizable for undercover missions; you’d give up the game well before getting any information.”

“Hey, I can keep a secret! You still don’t know that-”

When Draco whipped his head around, Harry was biting his lip, a sheepish slump to his shoulders. “Oh, don’t I?” Draco bluffed, one brow winging up. “There’s very little I don’t know…”

“No, I’d know if you...knew…” he finished lamely, and Draco laughed again.

“Whatever you say, Potter.”

They reached the floo bank and Draco let Harry go through, ahead of him. He needed a moment to practice his surprised face. When he stepped through the floo, into their flat, he blinked in actual shock. It was empty, but for the mouthwatering scent of cooking meat and tomato sauce filling the small space. Harry was already in the kitchen, puttering around, digging out plates, flatware, and wine glasses before opening the oven to check on the progress of whatever Italian dish he was preparing.

“Would you open the wine, Draco?” Harry asked, his face entirely too close to the oven door. “This has about ten more minutes.”

Draco rounded the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, shucking his robes as he went and depositing them on a chair at the tiny kitchen table. Plucking the bottle from it’s place on the counter, Draco lifted one brow, questioningly. “This is awfully expensive, Potter,” he scolded.

“Don’t get too excited,” Harry laughed. “Your mother sent it over, this afternoon.”

“Oh, of course. The food, too, then?”

“Nope, that’s all me. I just didn’t know what wine to pair with veal parmesan. Narcissa was very helpful.”

Draco stared, a moment. “You left work early, didn’t you?”

“Guilty,” he said, grinning as he rose. “The wine, Draco?”

Shaking his head, Draco picked up the corkscrew from where it lay beside the wine glasses, and removed the cork, carefully. Meanwhile, Harry collected the dishes and carried them to the table, arranging them haphazardly. 

With a sigh, Draco retrieved two cloth napkins from a drawer and followed behind, straightening the settings and folding the napkins with a flick of his wand. Much as he loved Harry, he set an awful table. 

Draco froze as his thoughts caught up with him. His jaw slackened and he lifted his eyes to Harry. He must have put the apron on as soon as he climbed out of the floo, since he definitely hadn't been wearing it at the ministry. He had also changed since leaving work, whenever that was. Now, he wore black denims and a green shirt, hanging loose around his hips and buttoned to just below his collarbone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

It was more than he'd usually wear on a weekday, but not outside the limited bounds of his wardrobe. The smile, marked as always by the crooked line on the left side of his mouth; the eyes, warm and brilliant green, made deeper by the colour of his shirt; the easy grace and charm with which he moved, when he didn't think about it… 

None of that had changed, he was the same Harry Potter he'd always been. A little older, a little smarter – but only a little – and infinitely more attractive than he'd been when this began, but remarkably unchanged. 

And Draco loved him. 

Looking around, he realised that it was more than Harry he loved. Their tiny flat, their quiet life, the evenings spent with Teddy in front of the television. Even their strange mix of friends. Ten years ago, he never would have assumed he'd be this happy. When he had friends and power and the world seemed ready to hand him anything he wanted, if he only demanded it. Anything except the one thing he most wanted. 

But he had that now. 

“Draco?” Harry asked, taking the fork Draco didn't remember picking up. “What's wrong, baby?” 

“Wrong?” he asked, still a little dazed. “No, nothing is wrong. Thank you, Harry.”

Harry stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist, and tilted his head. “For what?” 

“For this,” he said, simply. “For making me dinner on my birthday. I could have sworn I'd come home to all of our friends shouting ‘surprise’ and ludicrous…” Harry's eyes lowered and he shifted, trying to move away. Draco stopped him, gripping his collar to keep him in place. “There's still a party, isn't there?” 

“Of course there's a party,” Harry grinned. “You think I'd let you off easy this year, for no reason?” 

Narrowing his eyes, Draco scowled. “It's not no reason, you prat! I don't want a party.”

“And what makes you think that's up to you? Birthday parties are an excuse for friends and family to get together, eat cake, and get pissed. It's a celebration of life. You can't deprive us of that.” A mischievous light sparkled in Harry's eyes and, Merlin help him, all Draco wanted to do was kiss him. 

So he did. Using the collar he still held, he pulled Harry down, crushing their lips together and sighing when he was met with equal fervor. Harry's arms tightened around his waist, his hands sliding up, over Draco's back. The taste of him, so familiar, the shape of his lips - all of him sent one thought racing through Draco's mind. 

Home. 

“Oh, shit,” Harry swore, releasing Draco and rushing back into the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Can you pour the wine?” 

Trailing after him, Draco did just that, a happy little bubble rising in his chest. 

-

By the time Harry dragged Draco into the noisy club, he had just about lost his mind. 

All through dinner, Draco seemed determined to drive him mad; his fingertips teasing Harry's across the table, his sharp leather shoes trailing up his calf under the table, that luminous smile fixed in place on his face. Harry wanted to drag him to their bedroom. To their bed. To the fucking floor. 

But they had a party to attend. The pointy git was likely doing it just to distract him from that very fact, anyway. Well, Harry wouldn't be swayed. He was taking Draco to his bloody birthday party if it killed him. 

Death even seemed likely when Draco emerged half an hour later, dressed in flowing blue robes. No, flowing wasn't accurate. They rippled, moving over his frame like water over a fountain statue. The fabric, itself, seemed to move, casting unusual and enigmatic shadows and playing off Draco's piercing grey eyes. 

“Wow,” he breathed. “You look-” Unreasonably nervous, Harry tugged at the waist of his own robes, a deep burgundy Hermione insisted looked amazing on him. They paled in comparison, but he was okay with that.

Draco frowned, glancing down at his robes. “It's not too much, is it?” he asked. “You didn’t say where we were going…”

“No, no,” Harry assured him, taking his hand and holding him at arm's length. “You look gorgeous.”

Draco smiled, his cheeks colouring faintly. “Good. Are you ready?” 

Harry nodded, unable to force any more words from his dry throat. Taking Draco's hand, he turned on his heel, apparating them to the club. 

Now, he wished they'd stayed home. He watched as Draco made his way around the room, greeting their friends and accepting birthday wishes, as well as a few gifts – discreet except for Pansy’s. That woman didn’t know the meaning of the word discreet.

The effortless grace, the elegant lines that were offset by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes… was it any wonder Harry was lost to this man? Lost in him? 

Pansy’s shrill laughter filled the room and Harry looked up just in time to see Draco looking his way, his cheeks a delicate shade of pink. He smiled, a small, secret little smirk, and winked. And Harry nearly toppled the drink table he stood beside, stumbling back into it.

Setting his glass on the table, he wove his way through the room, waving to friends here and there. When he reached Draco’s side, he slipped a hand over the small of his back to hook over one hip. He shot Pansy a grin before bending to whisper in Draco's ear. 

“Come dance with me, gorgeous?” When he pulled away, catching Draco's hand and tugging, Pansy’s eyes were wide, one dark eyebrow arched. “If you'll excuse us, Parkinson.”

“Yes, of course,” she said with a little shake of her head. 

“What was that about,” Harry asked, as they made their way to the dance floor. 

“Pansy was just wondering why I wasn't as upset about the party as I usually am.”

“Oh?” With a jerk, he pulled Draco flush against him, smiling when long arms circled his neck, immediately. “And what did you tell her?” 

“This year is different,” he answered, a small smile playing about his lips. 

“What's different about it?” 

Draco lifted his gaze, meeting his eyes, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. “I've realised that I'm happy.”

“You weren't happy before?” 

“No, I was,” Draco corrected, a frown marring his brow. “I just didn't recognise it until tonight.”

“Oh.” Confused, Harry stilled, looking down into the swirling grey eyes. “What changed?” 

“Oh, nothing noteworthy. I just-”

“I love you, Draco.” 

“What?” 

He didn't plan on saying it, not like that, but the words were out before he could stop them. And, he found he didn't want to take them back.

“I love you,” he said, again. “I'm in love with you.” Silence stretched on and Draco merely stared at him, his mouth open in shock. “Draco? Please say something.”

“Well, what do you expect me to say?” Draco asked, frowning. “I love you, too? That would be predictable, wouldn't it?”

“Would it? I was actually expecting you'd smack me…”

“Would you like me to?” 

“Of course not!” Harry all but shouted. Spinning away from Draco, he ran a hand through his hair. “Would it be such a bad thing, being predictable?” 

“So, you do want me to smack you,” Draco said, flashing a grin. Reaching out, he caught Harry's hand, stopping his restless movement. “Say it again?” 

Harry frowned, looking down into oddly hopeful eyes. “I don't want you to smack me?”

“No, you idiot, say I-” 

“You haven't said it,” Harry argued, petulantly. “Why should I say it twice?” 

“You surprised me, last time. Say it again.”

Lifting his hands to cup Draco's face, Harry searched his eyes for a moment. Then he whispered, the sound little more than breath against his lips, “I love you.” 

“And?” 

“And?” Incredulous, Harry jerked away, again. “And I want a life with you, you insufferable git!” 

“Good.” With a curt nod, Draco snaked his arms around Harry's shoulders, again, pulling him down until their foreheads pressed together. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you haven't already, go check out Carpemermaid's amazing fan works!


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